Out Of The hospital
by Sunamachi
Summary: rio checks out. a favourite scene of mine. i wished it happened.


Checking Out

**By: Reincarnate**

Humour/Angst

Celebrations are a time of joy and a time to relax. At Rio's checking-out-of-hospital celebration, a couple of things are learnt. Including A SENSE OF HUMOUR on EYES' side? Canon characters. Light-hearted humour.

Disclaimer: If I really owned 'Spiral: Suiri No Kizuna', would I HAVE to write FAN fiction? Honestly...

Casually strolling around the city, to the average passer-by, this is was an average person wearing a black overcoat and a vacant expression, probably just disinterested at the daily going-ons of the busy city square. Of course, this is hardly the average 'I don't care about anything' punk you'd meet on the street. How many people are missing a seventh right rib? How many good-looking blokes are Blade Children, or any person Blade Children for that case? Just to add onto the checklist of rare species list, this particular individual had silvery hair, a mind suited to remembering melodies and a talent for all things piano, has a career as a pianist and juggled his career with the affairs of the Blade Children? A man of English decent by the name of Eyes Rutherford.

Selecting his fruit carefully, making sure that the perfect imported fruit was free from blemishes, the white-haired virtuoso stepped up to the counter and nonchalantly hid his face to avoid the disorder a well-known face usually causes when seen.

Grabbing his wallet, he quickly drew out a 5000-yen note and paid for his fruit. The shopkeeper indifferently handed his change of 610 yen, no questions asked. People like that, the sort that go about on their business without further noting their customers after they've left, were much pitied by this white-haired customer. They had their business and weren't subject to other people because it would be a waste to care for every single person who stepped into their premises. Misusing their ability to talk cheerfully just to market their products, it was considered very unfair to this white haired emotionally shutdown individual. But they did have their uses, he admitted. They never looked into fashionable magazines and drank in all it had to offer, they wouldn't pay too much attention to a famous piano artist, as famous faces were almost as common as a new import coming on a Friday. Checking his recently purchased honeydew melon, watermelon and mangosteen, standing close by to a wall, as not to get in way of others, he decides to fulfil one particular task while he is outside.

Walking through the dimly lit aisle, looking through different packets of preserves, he finally pasts the musky atmosphere and pays for his small packet of yaku-yaku dried fish. A deceptively carefree lad had named his black overcoat 'trench coat with magic pockets', as he had pulled many strange and wonderful things at unanticipated times from it. Last time, he had depleted his supplies of dried anchovies when a cat had come up to him in the park. No, he wasn't buying it to remind himself of the cat, he was hardly the sentimental type. Actually, not at all, it had been over a decade since he had shown an appreciable amount of emotion. He had so much to do; there wasn't any time for soppiness. He was the unofficial leader of the Blade Children, a pianist with a full schedule and was preparing a brisk 'welcome back' for when Rio visited his penthouse suite. He was relived to know that having Takeuchi Rio out of immediate danger of Hunters, that, and he had to keep his half-promise to her.

"My melon!" An elated girl with large grey eyes and hair done up in her habitual orange ribbons exclaimed as she saw neatly cut up slices of her favourite fruit. Wearing a striped skivvy top with a faded yellow lace-up vest over to hide her tight bandaging, her looked like a normal first-year junior-high student. Only that she wasn't. Meet Takeuchi Rio, the science-minded bomb expert of the Blade Children.

"_Your_ melon, Rio?" said an impish face feigning surprise. A self-styled cut of red hair and fashion specs tinted yellow to accentuate his olivine eyes, enter the humorously morbid contradictory joker of our pack. Asatsura Kousuke.

"Yes, and it's all mine. Isn't it, Eyes?"

The practicing pianist seemingly ignored the bickering he had been missed hearing for 2 weeks, and continued to perfect a nastily knotty set of chords.

"See?" Shrugging with one shoulder, Rio continued to rub her domination over the slices of melon into Kousuke's face.

"Eyes didn't say anything." He grumbled.

"Ah, but he didn't say 'no' either," Countered Rio, using Kousuke's attitude of disregard to tantamount. Digging into her much-missed melon, she continued to watch Kousuke grumble, and as much as he would hate to admit, whine.

Picking up a slice of watermelon, Kousuke concentrated on picking out the black seeds as he tried to preserve the perfect clean cuts of the watermelon, ignoring the little voice that's screamed 'yell yell yell yell' inside his head.

"How's your watermelon?" she asked ever so sweetly. Kousuke had never doubted her ability to mask her genius, but was always surprised to how she could properly pretend to be the slow-witted 'kawaii' girl of her class. Actually, that was why Sensei never suspected her be a Blade Child and in the end, was killed by carbon dioxide poisoning.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. She was on the ball today, alert as always and pushing his buttons all too expertly for his liking. Just for one day, he had unwittingly said that he would be happy and would not scold at the fragile fresh-from-the-ward Rio... and was paying for his little slip up right now.

Allowing the mood created by the music to fully dispel, Eyes abruptly spoke up as he faced them and ignored his self-composed music for once.

"Are you enjoying your fruit?"

Rio piped up, cheerful that her melon was eaten by her and her only and that Kousuke was in a foul mood.

"Most people ask for flowers or chocolate from their loved ones, but here, Rio gets a melon?" Kousuke criticized, making a full use of mockery and his laconic sense of humour.

"Because. I. Asked. For. A. Melon." Rio articulated each word with a, in Kousuke's opinion, 'not-so-cute' jabbing in his left arm. "And Eyes is not my loved one." She added with some afterthought.

"Eyes, do I get anything?" Kousuke mentioned before the blue-eyed pianist started playing again. Meeting his gaze, he felt the trademark pressure Eyes exerted whenever he needed to. Caving in to the accumulating pressure, Kousuke averted his gaze.

"Never mind. It's nice of you to remember Rio's melon, though." Kousuke light-heartedly muttered before snacking on other fresh imports Eyes had prepared.

"Wait," the pianist's hand explores his trench coat pockets once more and expressing no surprise or any emotion for that matter, held up the small packet of Yaku-Yaku dried anchovies. Tossing them to the surprised redhead, Eyes, without missing a beat, stretched his fingers and continued to compose his music.

"Wha-?" exclaimed Kousuke, as he glared at Rio. Unable to comprehend her sudden outburst of laughter, Kousuke decided not to ask. For his sake. For once, he was the sane one.

Settling down back into a sitting position, Rio stifled a couple of residual giggles before she was able to talk properly. And even then, she had a grin in the vague shape of one those melon slices.

"So Eyes _does_ have a sense of humour after all."

Asatsura Kousuke: Is that even his name? My memory seems to be failing me again. I'm quite sure it's _Kousuke_, but correct me on his surname, ok?

Yaku-yaku: simply means 'fry-fry' or 'burn-burn'. Seemed appropriate for that product.

Well, even though the two genres I listed these under do contradict each other, I think it works quite well. Mostly humour (which is why it appears _first_) and a _little_ 'angst'. No idea what angst actually is though, but it was fun typing this particular idea up.

I have a very strange sense of humour, and find the fish thing quite humorous. Apologies to those who have a more straight-cut sense of humour, but I did find it funny.

Destructive criticism would be appreciated. Constructive criticism, even more so. Please review.


End file.
